“I hope not,” he retorts. “But if you aren’t able to adapt to your new role, your wish might be arranged.”
The SUV jolts as we make a sharp turn, and it throws me into the lap of the man on my right. I grasp the door handle, desperately trying to pull it open. He tears my fingers from it before I’m even able to get a glimpse at my freedom.
“Don’t bother,” Davit says, amused. “They’ll hunt you down before you make it twenty meters. Or they’ll shoot you in the back.” Turning his attention to the man beside me, he mutters something in Armenian.
Working like a well-oiled machine, the men I’m wedged between grab my wrists and quickly zip tie them together.This is far from their first go at abduction.“You won’t get away with this.”
“That’s the problem with princesses like you,” he snarls, leaning closer.I hate the way that word sounds from his mouth.“You think the world is fair. But the truth is—power wins. Money wins. And I have both.”
So do The Kings…
I clutch my arms to my body, trying to warm myself from the sudden chill that has nothing to do with the temperature in here. My chest feels tight, my heart pounding against my ribcage, and not wanting to give him the satisfaction, I fight the overwhelmingurge to cry.
“Good girl,” Davit mutters, almost like he’s praising me. “If you can keep that sharp tongue of yours quiet, we might get along better than I thought.”
I force myself to meet his eyes. “Enzo is going to kill you.” There is no tremor or fear in my statement, because I know beyond a doubt that it’s true. I don’t know if he’ll save me first, but I know without a doubt Enzowillend Sargsyan’s life for taking me.
“You’re already too late,” the Armenian mumbles, repeating himself and driving his words into my gut like a spike.
I freeze, my heart thumping in my throat. “What the fuck did you say?”
A dark chuckle rattles from him. “You heard me.”
The room goes deafeningly silent, and his stare up at me is unwavering as I take a step toward him. “Tell me,” I roar, my fists slamming into his face like it’s a punching bag.
Blood flows from his lips by the time I stop. He pushes a tooth from between them, and a now-gaping smilespreads across his face, his remaining teeth coated with crimson spittle. “Davit sent her a text from you nearly ten minutes ago. If you hurry, maybe you’ll get there first.”
Pulling my gun again, I can barely breathe as I point it toward his battered face and mercilessly pull the trigger—the reverberations of the shots echo around the concrete tomb. My legs move before my brain catches up, and I sprint away from the Armenian, my boots thudding against the concrete until I reach the elevator. I jab the call button so hard I might break it.
I need to get to her…
The seconds tick by like hours, waiting for the cab to arrive. My hand trembles as I dial Cillian—the call failing from the service-blocked confines of the basement. “Fuck!” I yell, pacing the floor like a caged animal. I futilely try calling Cillian again, but the call still won’t go through.
The elevator dings, and I nearly punch the doors open. I swipe my keycard and slam the penthouse button until the doors slide shut. The car lurches upward as I hold the handrail with a white-knuckled grip, my other hand repeatedly hitting redial. Still no fucking connection.
After what feels like an eternity, the doors open. I bolt into the hall, my shoulder clipping the still-opening doors. The pain barely registers as I sprint toward Damon and Gunnar, holding sentry outside the penthouse door. They both tense upon seeing me and follow behind me as I barrel through the front door.
“Eavan!” I shout, my crazed eyes darting around the apartment. She doesn’t reply. My heart thumps like a drum in my ears, and I choke when I try to yell her name again. “Eavan!”
“Enz?” Nikolai walks into the living room from the terrace, confusion snapping across his face.
“Where is she?” I shout, panic quickly taking hold.
“She went downstairs to meet you.” He shakes his head, continuing to stare at me with disbelief. “Maybe five minutes ago.”
“And you fucking let her go?” I snarl, my blood turning to ice and boiling all at once.
Nikolai recoils at the fury in my voice, defensively replying, “She said you texted her. Fuck,youtext me to say it was fine and you were waiting at the elevator.”
“What the hell is going on?” Cillian mutters as I turn, finding him staring at me wide-eyed with takeout bags in his hands. “Enz?!”
“The Armenians,” I gruff, my voice raw, as I shove past him, racing back to the elevator. They all follow—Cillian, Nikolai, Gunnar, and Damon, all asking a barrage of questions I don’t have time to answer.Questions that don’t matter right now.
The doors slide shut, and the cab can’t move fast enough for any of us. “What the fuck is going on?” Cillian shouts over the chorus of chatter in the small space, demanding an actual answer this time.
“Sargsyan… The motherfucker cloned my phone,” I grit, my jaw clenched so tightly with anger my teeth might crack. My foot taps against the floor, and my fingers twitch as I anxiously wait for the cab to reach the lobby, watching the floors click by in slow motion. “They’ve been reading everything.”
He pales. “What?”